Die Happy
by chukaliteluvver
Summary: "I expected something. Perhaps some drama, a rapid flash of my life before my dying eyes, voices of the past whispering against deafening ears...past regrets swirling amongst rare snippets of happiness stolen in the course of my life...something poetic, definitely. Even the clichéd light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel would have sufficed." Alternate ending to season one, SebaCiel.


I expected something.

Perhaps some drama, a rapid flash of my life before my dying eyes, voices of the past whispering against deafening ears...past regrets swirling amongst rare snippets of happiness stolen in the course of my life...something poetic, definitely. Even the clichéd light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel would have sufficed.

I did not, however, expect the velvet voice whispering a lullaby into my ear. London Bridge, if I recall correctly.

Nor did I anticipate all sensation to vanish. This left me with only dark warmth in what may have been my heart.

The soft caress against my cheek, a ghost of a touch that numbed the chaotic surges of conflicting emotions from a minute ago, leaving me blissfully sated was equally unforeseen.

Just as I was about to resign myself to a sleepy death (yes, evidently, that was possible), I heard (yes! HEARD, despite my dying) an amused chuckle, and an all-too-cryptic voice stating, "You are not dead, little one."

I wasn't? That was news to me...

All awareness had not deserted me, apparently, since I felt (_felt! _All these sensations shocked me, in my state of lethargy) gentle arms wrap around me, and (for lack of a better word) hug me.

Death was cuddly? Just as my logic was about to point out that thinking of death as 'cuddly' was not respectful, I recalled that velvet voice telling me that I was not dead.

Wait. That voice. And that sombre rendition of 'London Bridge' being sung in my ear...

I found that my voice did, in fact work, when I emitted a weak gasp of, "Se-Sebastian?!"

A soft laugh followed my outburst. I still couldn't see, but I did feel the grip on me tighten. My query was answered by a quiet, "I could not do it."

What?

"Forgive me, My Lord. I simply could not bring myself to do it."

"Y-You aren't ta-aking my so-oul?" Hm. My vocal chords were malfunctioning, as it appeared.

"Ah. I cannot. I tried, Master..."

Some warm-yet-cold pressure was exerted on my forehead, and a voice breathed against my skin, "I tried, so very much. I wanted you, I still do. Your soul is the very epitome of mouth-watering..."

His voice was thick with...tears? No, this was Sebastian, the demon who kept emotion at bay.

"Sebastian, you twat," I mumbled, as soon as I gained control of my tongue. "You can't _cry._ You wouldn't have let me cry, not even a goddamn tear. And now you start bawling like a sentimental _human _over my metaphorical deathbed."

A sigh followed, laced with some unnameable misery that I would have bet even he didn't understand.

"I tried," he whispered again.

"Am I...?"

"Dead? Not quite. You are...fragmented." Taking my silence as incomprehension, he elaborated, "I broke you. My attempt at taking you shattered your soul."

Well, that explained the strangeness. The cold was still there, numbing me. I felt an odd tug pull at me, away from the warm grasp of the demon that lay claim to my soul. I was there, but not quite. It was as if I was on the very precipice of waking; about to open my eyes, yet still shrouded by the taste of dreams.

"Will you? Take my soul?"

My eyes were closed, subjected to soft stroking from a caressing finger. The soft touch seemed to fade, somehow. That strange tug pulled at my innards again.

"No," his voice was a resigned sigh, a demon in more conflict than I, the dying human. That word spoke volumes to me, and I felt, vaguely, my lips turn up at the corners.

The sneaking suspicion that I had lost it in my later years was just insanity, then. My feelings, initially assumed unrequited, had been returned. Though it was too late to actually do anything about it, I couldn't help the joy that unfurled on light wings within me. I loved him. And he did, in his own demonic manner, return those feelings, to some extent.

I could die happy.

"What, then?" I murmured. "If you don't devour me, I will pass on, Sebastian."

The answer was even more miserable than the last. "I know."

He spoke again, after a lapse. "I do not understand...why..." This was broken off by what may have been an aching sob, followed by further tightening f his iron grip on me.

"You _are_ curious, Sebastian," I chuckled, despite my less-than-favourable disposition. "How very like you to not understand what you feel."

"Brat," he responded, through tears.

"Demon," I replied.

There it was, that tug again. This time, I recognised it.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, My Lord?"

"I' m dying."

"...My Lord..."

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, cursing my lack of ability to open my eyes and see his face, and said, "No, you don't. I was all set and ready to die and have to take my soul but you couldn't. I am going to die, demon, and you are not going to stop me."

Finding my words amusing, he laughed, "Yes, My Lord."

There was another lull, as he held me the way I wished I could hold him, both wanting this to last forever.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes, My Lord?"

"I do believe I've found the one order you couldn't follow."

He was incredulously silent for a moment, before laughing uproariously.

"I believe you're right, My Lord," he chuckled.

And so now we wait, until death took the fragments of my soul away, revelling in each other.

Yes, I think I can safely say I'll die happy. I can feel that unnameable tug.

I expect something, though.

Perhaps some drama, a rapid flash of my life before my dying eyes, voices of the past whispering against deafening ears...past regrets swirling amongst rare snippets of happiness stolen in the course of my life...something poetic, definitely. Even the clichéd light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel would suffice.

Instead, I found that I could see, and was met with a pair of scarlet eyes, filled with such love and warmth that my heart swelled. Those twin pools of shimmering blood held so much; love, sorrow, apology, wistfulness, awe, affection...

I feel my smile widen.

I'm dying happy.


End file.
